


And they’re forever lost

by vermicious_knid



Category: The Grand Budapest Hotel
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermicious_knid/pseuds/vermicious_knid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A component in the case of the two hour disappearance of Agatha (sans last name) and Dmitri Desgoffe-und-Taxis, who entered by elevator together at apparent emotional distress at 1500 hours – and did not reappear at the sixth floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And they’re forever lost

 

* * *

 

 

_In the republic of Zubrowska,_

_Year 1932._

_The time it takes to reach the sixth floor of the Budapest Hotel by elevator, is approximate 15 seconds if there is no technical difficulties –which, despite the hotels polished perfectness in every way, had been known to stop temporarily between the 4th and 5th floor. Whenever this happened, the staff was duly embarrassed and were all told by management to keep it a secret. A flaw which has been kept secret until the unraveling of a diary belonging to a deceased Budapest employee. Among other interesting anecdotes from his work, Hans Kravenov also accounted for the flaw of the elevators._

_The only professional repairman for Avanti elevators lived 30 miles away, and could only be reached by a select group of trained homing pigeons. As a recent document of records overlooking the maintenance of the elevators has shown, no maintenance appears to have been made for at least 3 months in the same year. If this is due to H.M Gustavs absence from his post as concierge for the hotel at the time is unclear, but heavily suggested. This is written as a component in the case of the two hour disappearance of Agatha (sans last name) and Dmitri Desgoffe-und-Taxis, who entered by elevator together at apparent emotional distress at 1500 hours – and did not reappear at the sixth floor._

 

* * *

 

 

She did not know who this man was at first, but she knew that when he spotted her so specifically from the great distance of the lobby, she knew what he wanted.

And so she ran.

It was just simple bad luck that he was just in time to catch her in the elevator.

The lobby boy was looking at them strangely, as if he knew. She didn’t know if it was common in a situation of panic, but suddenly a passage came to her from the book of poetry Zero had bestowed on her. Not a very lovely one, not really about love at all.

_"The wind flapping at a short distance made me aware_

_Of the falling degradation of his obscure reality."_

The elevator stopped between the 4th and 5th floor, but the three occupants didn’t take notice.

“Now. That painting belongs to me.”

She wouldn’t look up and meet his eyes, because she was thinking of what to say.

“Did you hear what I said?” he hissed.

He grabbed the corner of the frame roughly and tugged. Light as a leaf, a document marked C O N F I D E N T I A L slipped out. They both looked down and stared at it for some time. It felt strangely embarrassing, like someone had dropped a flimsy undergarment in plain sight. The lobby boy gulped audibly, and adjusted his collar.

The painting and her involvement with it was temporarily forgotten as he reached for the envelope and tore it up with hunger, sitting down on the floor in a slump to scan the containing message.

_Second Will and Testament of Madame D._

She could only guess at what it said, from his reaction of reading it. He hit one fist against the wall and the whole cubicle shook with the force of it. Agatha pressed herself against the wall behind her, breathing fast with worry. But it was only her body panicking, her mind was devoid of it. The fearsome man started cursing loudly in a language she was not familiar with, got up and paced to the farthest corner of the cubicle. And there, in a well-furnished and luxuriously respectable elevator cubicle stuck between two floors, Dmitri Desgoffe-und-Taxis cried for the first time since he had been 7 years old.

Of course he was not aware he was really crying, as he hadn’t seen anyone else in tears for as long as he could remember. Nobody in his immediate family shed tears, not even at his own mother’s funeral. Somewhere along the long line of relatives stoicism and the stormy temperament of the family legacy had plotted together and erased the mere possibility of tears. In fact, only one person in their household cried regularly, and only when she was alone in her boudoir.

But this was her damn testament he was holding in his hands.

The lobby boy looked extremely conflicted about the situation, looking between the guests alarmingly.

It was a damnable thing sometimes, human nature, Agatha thought as she quietly walked closer to the man. She put one hand on his back, between the shoulder blades. He had one hand over his face, but she tried to look into his eyes anyway. She offered him a pink handkerchief, which he angrily snatched from her dainty hand. As he dabbed his eyes he thought it smelled of powdered sugar and oven mitts.

She didn’t try to say anything comforting, she didn’t say a word.

About 30 minutes later, the three of them were sitting down, waiting to be rescued. Agatha was sitting with her knees tucked under her, hands folded in her lap. The lobby boy had removed his hat and was nervously toying with it in his hands. The third occupant was slouching against the wall, long spidery limbs out in all directions. He was staring at Agatha as if accusing her, but there was a hint of curiosity there too. He kept making a fist against the pink handkerchief he still had in his hand.

“What were you doing, with the painting?” he finally asked.

“I was picking it up. They’re taking it for a trip.” She said, shrugging and not meeting his eyes.

“Where are they going?” he asked, eyes dark and prying. She lifted her bright blue gaze and met his swiftly, challenging.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“It matters.”

“No, no it doesn’t. You can stop crying now.”

He tightened his jaw and looked away.

“I wasn’t crying.”

Then they fell into quietness for another minute or two. She started picking lint off her coat. The lobby boy started discreetly playing solitaire on a small square of the floor.

Dmitri glanced at her again out of the corner of his eye. He had seen her picture from Joplin’s desk. He hadn’t told him what he’d intended to do once he found her, didn’t need to. But for her, he would have made it swift and without shedding too much blood. She looks as if she doesn’t contain much to begin with.

“Are you poor?” he asks. Her answer comes immediately, as if she was waiting for this question. But she won’t look at him.

“Moderately, yes.”

“Moderately?”

“Moderately.” He snorts in a cruel, bitter fashion.

The lobby boy looks at him nervously for a second, then continues playing cards. Dmitri nods to the boy with apple leaning against the wall who seems to be enjoying their bickering.

“That painting is worth more than a fortune. Even if you stole it…”

“I won’t take it, if there is money to it. I wouldn’t do that.”

“So you’re saying that even if this is worth ten million – “ Suddenly Agathas eyes turn sharp and piercing on him.

There’s something very angry, old and hurt out on display in her eyes. He can see memories drifting up to the surface in her face, of searching for family members through rocks and ruins, of sickness and endless caring that is resolved to nothing.

“I’m not going to derive wealth from art that doesn’t even belong to my person. I’m a baker, not an heiress. I’m probably always going to live in an airy loft which freezes in the winter and leaks in spring, but that’s what I want. Money would never make me happy. “

Dmitri scoffs, like what she says is only nonsense. But he doesn’t say anything more. When they are found 1.5 hours later the three of them look up from a game of poker. Agatha holds nothing but aces, and his cards are all hearts.


End file.
